


I Like Me Better

by rebelise



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Online Dating, Ben is a hot mess, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hate Sex, New York City, Online Dating, Rey is an uber driver, Social Media, all their banter and glaring is foreplay basically, they wanna bang each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-01 14:58:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16286741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelise/pseuds/rebelise
Summary: Rey is an uber-driver in New York City, she keeps ending up with the same, tall, dark, shitty passenger. She doesn't know what she's done to deserve this.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea while riding in an uber, believe it or not ;) The title is from the song of the same name, by Lauv. (disclaimer: I've never been to New York City so all my geographical knowledge is from google maps LMAO)

“Have a good night,” Rey says cheerfully as her passenger closes the car door. She finds that she enjoys this line of work for Uber. She likes always being on the move and it’s not a terrible job for the pay and tips. She steers away from the curb and pulls out onto the road from the apartment complex where her latest passenger lives. This one happens to live near the Village in NYC, and she can’t complain about the string-lights everywhere, festive décor glimmering in all directions. Her phone goes off before she can take in much more of the bustling city-streets, and she glances down to see her next passenger is at the Washington Square hotel. At a hotel like that, maybe this person will give her a decent tip. Everybody around here does. So Rey steers her car in the direction of the hotel, hoping her night continues as well as it’s gone so far.

When she pulls up at the curb in front of Washington Square, she immediately spots a very tall man standing outside in a long black coat, his shoulders hunched, head bent over the phone in his hand. Rey can’t help but catch her breath instinctively. When he looks up she’s given a clear glimpse of his face under the streetlights. Long, pale, scowling, with dark eyes that fasten on her as she pulls up. This must be her passenger. Rey puts her car in park and waits, flexing her fingers on the steering wheel, suddenly nervous, as the back door opens and the man ducks inside, folding himself into her small but neat car. She can’t resist glancing over her shoulder, offering him a warm smile—really, she wants to get a better look. “Having a good night, sir?” God, in all her time as an uber driver, she’s never had a passenger who

He blinks—maybe surprised by her accent? “S’fine,” he rumbles, barely an answer, and looks back down at his phone. The light from his screen makes his large nose, sharp cheekbones and full lips more exaggerated. Rey shrugs to herself, trying to stile her disappointment. Jesus, Rey. _Like he’d ever want to flirt with you_.

No doubt he probably has a stunning model for a girlfriend who lives in the Upper East Side, who wears Prada every single day. Rey wouldn’t be surprised if his coat costs somewhere in the thousands. She checks her phone again for his name as she brakes at a stoplight. _Ben Solo._

Another thought occurs to her. He looks like he’s made of money. He carries himself like it too, treating her like a chauffeur below his attention, beneath courtesy of a simple “Hello, how are you?”

Well, he might be _hot_ , but he’s a prick, and Rey consoles herself with the thought that his girlfriend must put up with a lot if she’s dating such a man.

She already knows she’s going to rate him two stars, maybe three stars for attractiveness. She smiles to herself but her burst of humor evaporates when he says from the backseat, “Do you try to give your passengers leg-cramps? There’s barely any space back here.”

Rey stiffens as she gets on the route bound for the Upper East Side. Pretty much a straight shot from the Village.

“Sorry,” she offers coolly. “But I don’t think it’d be best if I adjusted the seat while I’m driving.” She peeks at him in the rearview mirror to see him pouting down at his phone screen, obviously annoyed by her response. Actually pouting—the droop of his pink, chapped lips would be adorable if he wasn’t so fucking rude. She’s relieved when she finally reaches the road marked as his destination—a street of undoubtedly pricey brownstones that she could never dream of affording. A far cry from her dingy apartment in Brooklyn.

Rey catches herself wondering if this is Ben Solo’s home, or his partner’s? Or maybe they live together? She hopes that with his attitude he lives alone, and spares anyone his acidic personality. He doesn’t even say bye or thank-you. He simply opens the door and gets out, shutting it with more force than Rey would like. Forget three stars. He deserves only  _one_. Rey huffs out, her face hot, as she drives away. This is the first time in a while she’s been _blessed_ with such a shitty rider. At least she won’t have to ever see him again.


	2. Chapter 2

That night, when Rey finally crashes into bed, she barely has the stamina to check her phone notifications. She’s been driving around for _hours_. It feels so good to lie down, let herself sink into her mattress. It might not be the nicest mattress in the world but _oh,_ it’s heaven right now—she might as well be laying on a cloud.

But when she pulls up the uber app to see her recent reviews, the name _Ben Solo_ stands out to her on the screen. Rey blinks, confused, when she sees that he rated her _five stars_. Rey huffs, lifting her head and blinking again to make sure. Yep, _five stars._ What? Why? Rey hates herself for blushing at this information. What a dick. All the other notifications seem to disappear but then when her stomach flutters Rey closes out of the app and decides that it’s time to go to sleep. She’s being so stupid, getting all knotted up over this.

________ 

A week later, Rey’s almost finished with her 12-hour shift—it’s the max any driver can work. She’s set to go out with Finn and Rose, even if she’s destined to be their third-wheel every time. They keep inviting her out, so she might as well go along. She can barely admit to herself that she’s been looking forward to this for the past two days, even if she’s going to most likely become the odd woman out. Oh well. At least she can drink and enjoy the companionship, however much they’re absorbed with one another.

Her phone chimes, telling her that she has a customer nearby. Rey turns in that direction, chewing her lip absently as she drives in the direction of a high-rise Manhattan lounge. New York City might always be in motion, but she’d prefer even her tiny shoebox of an apartment to the foster home back in London with Unkar Plutt. At least she’s free now. At least she has a couple friends who genuinely care instead of a guardian who leered at her and rarely fed her. She can’t complain. She’s okay with this. She’s okay.

Rey finds an empty slot on the road in front of the lounge’s entrance—going here would cost maybe the last four months’ savings. She gives her head a little shake, not wishing to imagine herself actually going somewhere like this. It would be nice, of course. But it’s no good to dwell on what will never happen. At least she’s free. At least she can choose what happens to her work wages. At Unkar Plutt can’t burn her earnings on liquor for himself.

She can choose. She can take care of herself. She looks up just as a man emerges from the rotating door, crystalline lights spilling out from within. They dance on his black coat and sparkle on dark hair that’s swept neatly back from a familiar face. Rey’s heart leaps against her ribs and something down in her core ripples alarmingly. She doesn’t like that. This is just a coincidence. He just happens to be at this club, where her client is. That’s it. No further explanation needed.

But this thought withers when he turns, spots her parked along the curb, and stalks in her direction. Rey jerks her eyes, staring straight ahead in a desperate bid to stay calm. What the hell. How? They shouldn’t have matched again. This shouldn’t be happening. She hears the door open as if she’s underwater, and she flexes her fingers on the steering wheel.

“You again?” she hears him mutter as he swings inside. Rey wants to snap that she’s just as confused—the low rating she gave him should have made this impossible. But apparently not. She’s thankful for the relative dimness of the car, shooting him a sharp look over her shoulder.

“Where to?” she demands, making no secret of her pique. She doesn’t need to ask, really, because of the app. _Whatever. It doesn’t matter. This is your last drive for tonight_.

“Same as before. It’s in the app already.” Rey pulls her lower lip between her teeth, sighing a bit loudly as she pulls from the curb. This time the ride is longer but it doesn’t matter. He’s on his phone and she focuses on where she’s going. She needs to contact the app developers about this bug in their system. Because she shouldn’t have to put up with this. It’s not doing anyone any favors.

At the stoplight she makes the mistake of peering into her rearview mirror. He looks much more tired than before. Dark circles under his eyes, and a crease between his brows in a constant grimace. He turns his head to look out the window, lifting one big hand to massage the bridge of his nose, a soft grunt issuing from those pillowy lips. The sound sends a shudder through Rey—she has no idea why it happens or where it comes from but the hairs on the back of her neck prickle and she just about jumps out of her skin when the car behind her honks. Oh, fuck. The light is green. She mashes on the gas pedal and her car lurches forward, and suddenly her face crawls with heat.

“Jesus,” she hears Ben Solo huff.

After that, Rey only looks in her rearview mirror when she has to—out of embarrassment and irritation with herself—and him. Just before she arrives, at his brownstone, she glances up and meets his eyes in the mirror’s reflection—her mouth goes dry, making it hard to swallow. He doesn’t look away—she doesn’t either, as she puts her car in park. It seems to go one for five minutes, but the clock says only a few seconds. She hears herself say roughly, “Have a good night!”—customary courtesy. He’s halfway out of the car but he pauses, pinning her with the quickest, sharpest glance.

“Goodnight, Rey.”

The syllable of her name on his tongue tugs the string taut inside her. She nods, pressing her lips together, and listens for the sound of his door closing. But she can’t resist peeking out the window to see him walk up the steps of the red-brick townhouse, broad shoulders stretching the fabric of that multi-thousand-dollar coat, she can see the strain of the cloth across his back. And his legs—oh God. Something deep inside her gives way with a tremor, and she only barely manages to drag her gaze from the thickly muscular outline of his legs. Rey’s phone chimes and she picks it up, looking up to see his iron-wrought front door close. _Five stars_.

Rey’s finger trembles, heat pounding in her throat as she chooses three stars. Because he said _goodnight_ this time. At least he’s gotten a little better about that.

 

________

 

Rose is a librarian at the Brooklyn Public Library, and Finn is a night-guard at the Metropolitan. So, the two of them and Rey are the perfect conglomerate of blue-collars—but they don’t need much to have fun. Rey’s on her second beer and she’s almost forgotten about Ben. Her passenger. She’s almost forgotten about the soulful brown eyes and pretty mouth—no guy should have a mouth like that, she keeps thinking. Rose and Finn are telling her about their neighbor, who apparently lacks the same common courtesy as Ben. Shit. Rey offers to get their table another round of drinks and sips hers on the way back. This is so stupid.

Then Finn brings up a dreaded topic. A topic that’s even worse given her recent trajectory of thought.

“You seeing anyone, Rey?”

She opens her mouth and then closes it. She manages to shrug. “Nah.”

“You should try a dating app or something. Those apps really work sometimes.” Tinder was how Finn and Rose met. They’ll never stop reminding her. But every time Rey’s tried one, she ends up with some piss-ant who sends her unwanted dick pics. She’s stayed away from those apps ever since. She can only think of one guy whose dick picture she’d want to see—

She cracks open a peanut with more force than necessary and Finn gapes at her.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll stop asking about that,” he holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“No, you’re good,” Rey mutters. “It’s just been a long day.”

It really has.

Later that night a guy in the next booth buys her a drink. She doesn’t like how it tastes and leaves it sitting untouched the rest of the night. When Rey gets home, she pulls up Tinder on her phone. There’s got to be one guy out of the millions in this city who she wouldn’t mind meeting. And she’s drunk, her brain hazy at the edges, as she waits for the app to download. She flips through profile after profile, swiping left over and over. Finally she throws her phone to the foot of her bed and dozes.


	3. Chapter 3

As per usual when she wakes up the next morning, mouth sticky and dry, temples pounding from last night’s drinking, Rey checks her phone for notifications. Call her lonely, but she’s always happy to see a text from one of her friends on her phone. It gives her a welling sense of joy, and maybe that’s pathetic, but she’s resigned to it. Rose and Finn are her lifeline.

She sees some messages from them in their friend group chat, but she forgets about that when she sees her Tinder notifications. Fuck. What did she _do_? She remembers the prick of disappointment last night when going through potential matches last night, but it’s all a haze in her mind now as she squints into the brightness emitted from her screen. “How are you tonight?” is the lone message she sees under Tinder notifications. Besides that message, she sees that she matched with the sender—with Kylo Ren. That’s his name.

She presses her thumb on that notification and waits as the app loads. The next minute she finds herself staring in open-mouthed shock as she scrolls through photos that are undeniably _Ben Solo._ Or, Kylo Ren, as he seems to prefer to go by on this app. This means that she swiped right on him. And—and he swiped right on her. Her heart stutters weirdly and climbs into her throat, making it difficult to breathe. She sits there, staring dumbly, trying to process this.

She opens the message he sent, looks at it for several minutes without doing anything to respond, and returns to the six photos he’s uploaded to his profile. Sure enough. It’s Ben Solo. She’d recognize him anywhere, she’s embarrassed to admit. In the first one it shows him facing away from the camera, caught in profile—obviously somebody else took this one for him. He’s wearing a black leather jacket, his hair brushed back damply—there’s sparkling water droplets on the slick leather of his jacket, like he’s just come in out of the rain.

Her mouth waters and she slides to the next one. This one’s a selfie. He’s barely smiling—more like he’s scowling. She recognizes _that_ expression. She can see the rich brown of his eyes in this one, golden flecks glinting in them.  In only one of his photos he’s actually smiling, full lips pulled back over white teeth that are slightly crooked. His eyes crinkle and he looks almost playful. Rey can’t believe she _matched_ with him. It’s already odd enough that she ended up as his uber driver _again_ but—but this is mad.

She notices that he sent the message late last night, probably after she fell asleep.

She pulls it up again and slowly taps out, _Ben?_ There’s no need for pleasantries.

She’s showered and in the process of getting dressed when her phone chimes.

_What a coincidence this is, Rey._

She huffs out a shaky breath, sinking onto her bed as she types.

 _It certainly is._ For some reason, Rey’s face gets hot and she just knows she’s probably flushed red. It irks her that he affects her this _badly_. It doesn’t make sense whatsoever. Guys don’t often faze her. She can get by, keep her confidence intact.

_I was surprised that you matched with me. Didn’t think you would, given our previous interactions._

_This is so strange_ , Rey texts bluntly. _I was drunk last night when I got on tinder. I think this was a mistake._

He doesn’t reply for ten minutes. She’s in the middle of brushing her teeth when her phone goes off.

_I see._

Really, what does he expect? They could barely hold a conversation while she drove him—on both accounts. But regardless, her fingers shake as she rushes to reply—seems like she hurt his feelings: _I mean, I just didn’t think you’d_ want _to match with me_. _We didn’t have much to say to each other in my car._

_I was having a bad night—both times._

Rey snorts. So that’s his explanation for his shitty manners? _Okay…_

_I’m sorry for being a dick._

Rey needs to head out to the parking garage, start her work day. How can she believe that he isn’t a dick on a regular basis? She shakes her head, pressing her tongue into her cheek. She doesn’t really know how to respond except for, _Apology accepted._ She’s still not sure, though.

_Can I make it up to you? Tonight? I’d like to apologize in person, over dinner._

Tonight.

Rey blinks several times and sets her phone down. Everything’s happening too fast to really process. He’s—he’s _asking her out_? He wants to take her to dinner? Suddenly her face is so much hotter, sweat breaking out on her skin, and she’s shaking so much she can’t stand up to leave. It’s one thing to admit she’s had a crush on him, the first rush of feeling she’s felt for anyone in such a long time. And maybe it’s more intense this time than she remembers ever experiencing before. He wants to take her to dinner, but she tells herself she’s more into how _big_ he is than anything. His hair is beautiful, and it falls about his pale, chiseled face just right. She can’t say much for his personality, though.

After five minutes she picks up her phone, fingers slippery with sweat, and replies, _Ok._

The typing bubble appears instantly and Rey feels dizzy as she sees his text, _I can drive this time, if you want?_

She’s seen where he lives. But he hasn’t seen where _she_ lives. _No, that’s okay. I can just meet you at the location._

_Alright. Does seven-thirty work for you?_

She works on her own schedule, usually for as long as possible. She figures she can cut today’s shift short. _Yes, sounds good_.

 _I’ll send you a pin drop of the address_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr--rebelise.tumblr.com  
> and twitter--rebelise96

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos mean I'll write the next chapter faster!


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